


Tender Mercies

by Missy



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Fantasy, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ophelia and Hamlet unite...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Mercies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XII, prompt: Hamlet, Hamlet/Ophelia, touch. Thanks to Amber for beta!

The Lady Ophelia has recessed into herself. Gone is the apple-cheeked maiden who would make any Dane a happy marriage; now sat a girl of pale face and intemperate opinion, her expression one of longing and depression.

He comes to her sometimes; a mist-phantom of her darkest desires and fantasies. He’s here now, smirking at her wickedly.

“Ophelia.” He draws her close, chortles against her neck. “How well thou art now?“

“Well? Tis well to be healthy, if not wise,” she replies quietly.

He ran a hand over her face, sliding a hand up her frock. “Ahh, Ophelia. Thou art fair as a summer day.”

She smiles. “And thou art a northern breeze, sweet and mild. Tho you do rage some.”

He unbinds her flowing locks. “Sweet one,” he parts her hair. “Where has the rue gone?”

His hand cups her breast, hers find the familiar briar path down to his groin. “All flown away, love.”

“Ahh, sweet love,” he mumbles. “Shall we share the bitter cup of love?” He squeezes her like a ripe mango.

“Ev’rey day.” She holds his cock, strokes it. “Sweet pale soldier,” she sighs. “Ye’ve come up rude and hard. Shall ye seek surcease in my bandybox?”

“Yes, love,” Hamlet replies, breathless, fingering the golden curls betwixt her legs. “You shall have your full purchase.

Ophelia throws back her head as he pierces her maiden veil; a sweet, sharp shock to the nerves, jolting her brains and nerves to life. “Ahh, pierce me true, fair arrow!”

“We shall fly…fly…Ophelia…”

She rolls and rolls on her bed, eyes opening to an empty room and a hand tucked between the legs. She throbs and throbs against the nothingness, the diamond-pattern blackness that claims her and bears her away.


End file.
